


Yes, Tom - Chapter 27

by riddlemetitillatedhiddles (ninecats)



Series: Yes, Tom [29]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninecats/pseuds/riddlemetitillatedhiddles





	Yes, Tom - Chapter 27

_"I'm pregnant."_ Over and over, all I could hear were those words in an endless loop in my head, spoken in some imagined voice. Different each time, although the seductive, ultra-feminine lilt stayed the same. Only the inflection and emphasis were altered. Some were joyfully excited, some were surprised and bordering on shock, some were confessional, full of emotion and uncertainty. I tried to picture Tom's face, his reaction. _How could this be happening? How could Tom lie so blatantly?_ My head spinning, I began to hyper-ventilate. I didn't know what to do. 

Part of me wanted to let him explain. _There has to be an explanation._ Right? I kept thinking, _Tom loves me. He would never…_ But the other part? Every little twinge of distrust came rushing back, and everything seemed to fit. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't believe how stupid and naive I had been. So many suspicions and still I let him talk his way out of it. Cajoling me, charming me. Both parts were utterly humiliated. And both parts were irate.

From what I could see, the message had been read. He hadn't texted her back, but there was one call to her number from very early that morning, lasting almost an hour. I set Tom's phone down and tried to think. Completely shellshocked, anger rising in me like some disastrous force, I knew I should wake him up, talk to him. I knew I was about to do something completely irrational and reactionary. But I honestly did not care anymore. I couldn't even cry, I was so pissed. _Tom cheated on me_. He fucked Sophie. Looked at me unflinchingly, those eyes wide with sincerity, and lied to me about it. Brazenly. Swore that he didn't do it. Impassioned, flowery, seemingly-heartfelt denials. Not only once, but numerous times. What other explanation could there possibly be? He had to have cheated. The worst part wasn't even the infidelity, though, really. It was that he had the audacity to be upset with me because I couldn't trust him. How could he? Everything I had thought, every insecurity that had coursed through me, whispering little doubts into my subconscious, it was all true. Everything was an act. He was playing a role the entire time. A role constructed to keep me placated so that he could have everything he wanted. I couldn't believe I had fallen for such shit. I couldn't believe he did this to me. And the punishment from that morning made it sting even worse. How he could be so incredibly hypocritical was incomprehensible.

Finally the tears poured forth, letting loose an emotion-filled storm of anger and frustration. I sobbed, keeping my hand over my mouth so I didn't disturb Tom. I didn't want to risk waking him. If I let him explain, he'd suck me right back in and I'd lose all sense of self. More than anything, I couldn't fathom _why_ he would do this to me. I would have had sex with him either way. I would have been his little slave. Why did he have to bring love into it? Why did he have to make me believe he cared? He could have been honest. I still would have had done his bidding, submitted to him, let him do every filthy thing to me with no qualms whatsoever. And the ring? Why was he even going to propose? _Oh god._ That was when it dawned on me: maybe the ring wasn't even for me. Maybe it was for Sophie, and this was all a good-bye trip. Or a last hurrah. I wasn't good enough to marry, but Sophie was. And she had his child inside her to prove it. Thinking back, I thought about everything he'd ever told me and wondered if any of it was true. He probably didn't announce our relationship like he claimed, either. Another lie to keep his toy around a little bit longer. 

Utterly devastated, I made up my mind. I knew exactly what I was going to do. What I had to do. A deep breath, a churning stomach, a faltering voice. _This is my only option…_ I went into the kitchen and called Marvel, telling them I would take the job on one minor condition: they would make arrangements for me to leave late the next morning or early that afternoon. They agreed, and emailed me some forms to fill out and my schedule for the first few days. Once my flight was booked, they'd email my ticket and everything else. I also had them buy me a train ticket from Swansea to London. Luckily, there was a train leaving early the next morning, 4AM. I'd be in London by 8, and have plenty of time to get back to the house and pack, hopefully before Tom figured out what I was doing. Before I got off the phone, I informed them that they were not to share my information with Tom any longer. I didn't expound, I just told them that he was not to be informed where I was, what I was doing, or be given any personal information about me any longer. I then called a taxi to arrive at midnight. I figured it would be easier to wait for the train at the station.

By the time I was finished, it was still only 11PM. I had to somehow get through the next hour without falling asleep or losing my resolve and giving Tom an opportunity to manipulate me yet again. I thought about taking a walk along the beach, but decided it was probably not very safe. Plus, I only wanted to open and shut the door once in case Tom awoke. I was tired, my head ached, and my body was trembling from the swirl of conflicting emotions. As I reached up to rub my neck, I felt the collar necklace. The supposed symbol of our relationship. It was meant to embody everything between us: our special love and the way we expressed it to one another, the trust we shared, and the commitment we honored. Now, all it felt like was a reminder of Tom's bullshit. It felt stifling. Tainted.

I looked around the kitchen until I found a pair of pliers. Using a compact mirror I had in my purse, I sat with the tool poised in my hand, staring blankly. Every time I tried, I would start to shake so severely that I had to lower my arm and wait until I calmed myself a bit. Finally, tears blurring my vision, I steeled myself and managed to open the padlock. Once it was off, I panicked for a second, and tried in vain to close the mangled part again. Of course it was irreparable. Hopelessly broken. The chain fell limply into my lap. It truly was a symbol of our relationship now.

In a way, I was relieved. Now I really couldn't look back. I wrote Tom a quick note: _You have a text from Sophie._ I put it next to his phone and laid the destroyed necklace on top. I still had to get my clothes and things, so I braced myself and started to head upstairs. Tiptoeing, my breath held tightly until I thought I might burst, I managed to get my bags together and carry them downstairs. Tom was sound asleep and didn't stir. At midnight, I lugged my things to the door and waited for the lights of the taxi. I knew I needed to be quick and absolutely silent. The moment I saw the vehicle pull up, I opened the door as quietly as possible and ran outside.  

**** 

It was the longest night of my life. I didn't sleep at all, even on the 3 hour train ride. I couldn't. I cried, hugged my knees, thought of everything I'd given up to be with Tom and all I'd gotten in return: nothing. Around 6:30, Tom finally called. Obviously I ignored it. Then he texted me: _Please let me explain it's not what you think. I love you._ He didn't deny it though, that she was pregnant, or even that it was or could be his baby. The message didn't say, "I never slept with her" or anything like that. It just said, "it's not what you think". I was disgusted, and I felt sick to my stomach, but it only strengthened my resolve. There were only two appropriate responses to this event: "she's lying", or "it's not mine because I didn't sleep with her".  Or both. Saying "it's not what you think" was akin to saying "it's exactly what you think". I turned off my phone so that I wouldn't be tempted to read any more.

When I finally arrived at the train station in London around 7:30, I knew I still had to get a taxi home and pack as quickly as I could. I was sure Tom would be heading back, and most likely driving as fast as possible. Thankfully, the train I was on happened to be arriving at Paddington Station, which was really close to our house. Marvel had arranged for a car to pick me up at home at 9:30AM. It was cutting it very close, and I knew there was a very small margin of error for me to be able to avoid a confrontation with Tom. I made it home by a little past 8 and started to get ready. 

Trying to stay as focused and unemotional as possible, I showered and packed. At around 9:15, I figured I was safe, and I relaxed just a bit. I stacked my suitcases near the door and waited for the driver to ring the bell. Just then, I could hear the jangle of keys and Tom's voice already calling out to me, "Elizabeth? Elizabeth are you here?"

I froze. He flung the door open and seemed startled to see me standing there. Glancing over, he saw my bags and his face lost all color. Already I could tell he'd been crying, too. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he just started walking towards me, his arms outstretched as if he fully expected me to just embrace him. I backed up, trying to get away, but he dropped to his knees, pulling the velvet ring box from his pocket and holding it up rather awkwardly, like it was some kind of evidence. "Please, Elizabeth. _I did not cheat on you._ I love you. I want to marry you. I was planning to propose. I had everything planned and… Please, don't do this. I swear to god it isn't what you think!"

Unable to speak, unable to process Tom's over-emotional display, I stopped abruptly and just stood there, shaking my head. _What the fuck?_ Once I quit retreating from him, he crawled towards me and wrapped his arms around my legs, dropping the box and burying his tear-stained face against my abdomen. "Elizabeth I did not cheat on you. I swear to god. I slept with Sophie, but it was the night before that day we were together on set. I swear to god, there has been no-one since. And I haven't wanted anyone else. Being with Sophie that last night was one of the worst experiences of my life. I thought she was letting me back in, but she was just trying to make herself feel better… I swear," he avowed emphatically, "the next day is when my life truly began. Not just sexually, darling, it's everything. I swear you are my whole world. I want nothing to do with her, but I don't know yet if it's my child. I think she's waiting to take a paternity test on purpose so she can string me along. She wouldn't even tell me how far gone she is. I'm sorry. For everything, really, but especially for not telling you the moment I found out. I swear to god, though, I did not cheat on you and I never have and never will. You are _everything_ to me. Before you my life was bereft of meaning, of anything that made my spirit whole. But you, you are the other part of my soul. Elizabeth, please…"

He clutched at me, fingers gripping my skirt and pulling me closer. Desperate. Forlorn. He looked pathetic, wretched, as he looked up at me, tears now rolling down his face, his lips trembling, a slight glimmer of moisture under his nose. I loved him so much. And yet… I was not moved. There were no tears in my tired eyes. My heart was already broken and these words meant nothing. I shrugged a little, sadly but matter-of-factly. "I don't believe you."

It was almost inaudible, and I thought perhaps he didn't hear me because he didn't react. Not until it dawned on him exactly what I had said. Once he processed it, it was as though I'd stabbed him through the heart. Reached in and plucked it out of his chest. Speechless, he stared at me for almost a full minute, his mouth agape as if he could somehow will the words out. Or convince me without need of speech. Eventually he just stuttered, *But… it's… it's the truth."

I made sure he heard every word this time, raising my voice but keeping calm, no hint of anger, but no hint of anything else, either. Firmly, I said, "I don't think you understand. I don't believe you. It's irrelevant whether or not it's true." My fingers pulled at his hands and I started attempting to back up, but he refused to let me go. 

"Elizabeth please… you can't..." 

"I don't care!!" I wrenched his hands away from my body, but he stood up and held me tightly, hugging me, trying to force me towards the couch. "Stop, Tom! I mean it!!"

"Please, Elizabeth, please…" As I struggled more, he just held me more rigidly, until I was literally kicking him to get him to let me go. That only made him try harder to hold me still, and he kind of half-dragged me to the couch, pulling me onto his lap so I was draped across his legs, as if he was going to spank me.

Incensed, I started screaming, demanding, "STOP!! NOW!!" Finally he let me go and I tumbled onto the floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you not hear what I'm saying? I don't fucking care, Tom. _I do not care._ You lied. No matter what, you lied."

"I'm sorry, I thought… I thought you'd… but you just didn't give me time."

"Bullshit. You thought you might not have to tell me. You thought if you could force her to take a test or could find out how many weeks pregnant she is, you wouldn't have to tell me about any of it. That's what you thought. How am I supposed to trust anything you say? How?"

"I… I just didn't want…"

"Right. You didn't want. And yet you still got pissed at me about being worried about her. That's just… unbelievable Tom. I just…"

"Darling…"

"No."

"Fine. You won't listen to reason?" His jaw clenched and he pointed towards the stairs, his voice deeper, eyes narrowed. "Then I'm _ordering_ you. Go upstairs. We are going to talk this out and we are going to reach a proper conclusion and fix this no matter what. And I'm not taking no for an answer. I forgave you for lying. At the very least I deserve to have the favor returned. Now go the fuck upstairs!!"

"No." I exhaled heavily, and then I explained further, "I _can't_ Tom. I can't. I don't believe you. When I lied to you, you told me it wasn't that you thought I'd cheated, it was just the lie because it made you distrust my true feelings. Well, Tom, I understand. I do. Except that for me, I don't trust anything anymore. I don't believe you at all. I'm sorry. You cannot force me to believe you. I have to do that on my own. And I cannot be… so vulnerable with someone I don't trust."

" _I forgave you,_ " he hissed, through clenched teeth, his hand still pointing, arm stiff and suspended there, surreal really, as he waited for me to obey him. 

"It's not the same. I'm sorry."

"Don't do this…" he whispered, now back to pleading. He slipped off the couch and sat in front of me, reaching for my hand, his gaze penetrative and urgent. I hardly had any fight left. I wanted to relinquish, feel the safety and comfort of being controlled. Something in me, though… I just couldn't. Even before I read the message, I felt like something was wrong. This just made it worse. I let Tom take my hand, and he pressed his finger into my palm. I couldn't help it, I clutched it automatically, instinctively. "Please don't make me go back Elizabeth… Tell me what to do. Please tell me what to do. I'll do anything."

The door buzzed. It was the driver. "I have to go, Tom."

"What do you mean you have to go?" His voice began to rise, and he snaked his hand around my waist, sliding closer to me. 

"I took the job. That's my car for the airport."

"Then I'll go with you." Frantic now, he said it again, "I'll go with you. I'll… please…"

"Tom. I'm being honest. I don't know what I need, or even if it's from you. Can you please try to understand? I do love you. But you've hurt me so much right now that everything you say just sounds like white noise. And I realize that you think it isn't fair. Maybe it isn't. But Tom, I…" The door sounded again, and I slowly loosened my grip and let go of his finger. He started to cry. Before I stood up, I kissed him softly and told him, "I love you."

"Take this, please, take this so I know you are still mine." He retrieved the broken necklace from his pocket and held it out to me, pleading, "Please, Elizabeth."

"Okay." As I went to take it from him, he grabbed my hand.

"Please tell me this isn't it. Promise me you'll come back to me. That we can make this right. Darling, please…"

Looking down at him, I offered simply, "I love you." Pulling away, I walked towards the door and opened it, letting the driver in to get my bags. Tom just sat in stunned silence, his face sad and dumbfounded at once. Guilt overcame me, and I felt compelled to give him some kind of hope. I turned back towards him. "I promise I'll come back," I assured him softly, although in my heart I was far from certain. I didn't know if I could get over this. And I definitely had serious issues with Tom having a child with another woman, let alone a child with Sophie. My emotions were so chaotic, I couldn't feel anything any longer. I tried to smile, but I just started to cry as I watched Tom sitting there, so broken. I looked down at the necklace in my hand and wondered what would become of us. Then I turned and walked out the door.


End file.
